right between the eyes
between the running lights
between the wickets
halfway between fantasy and reality
life and death
substance and the metaphysical——
one foot on the pier and on in the boat
couldn’t make heads or tails out of it
not that it really mattered
death’s at the bottom of everything they have said
that one macabre bottle of wine we all share
no matter who we are; refugee or VIP—-
or somewhere in between
I drink to forget—I don’t forget to drink
proudly say I never fell off a barstool
between you and me
that’s for hack amateurs—-
who can’t hold their liquor
spilling it in a bathroom or parking lot
or worst of all, in a friend’s car—
